


never been good

by exquisitelymorose



Category: The L Word (TV 2004), The L Word: Generation Q (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 6, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22335754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisitelymorose/pseuds/exquisitelymorose
Summary: "She allows her hands to move, realizing they’d felt thick and cemented. The planes of Tina’s back beneath her hands make her want to shudder, she feels like home but she feels different. She hates that she feels different. She should’ve been there for the changes, the bit of weight now around her hips, the lines more defined around her eyes. They’re at that age, things change so rapidly.She should’ve been there to kiss every single bit."A continuation of the scene in episode 6.
Relationships: Tina Kennard/Bette Porter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85





	never been good

“It’s comfortable for you to self-destruct, Bette.”

“What would you do if things weren’t imploding?”

“Do you believe you thrive off of chaos?”

Through her therapist, Bette comes to realize that pain, discomfort fits her like the down soft sleeves of her worn out nightshirt. She should give it up, throw it in the trash. Not even a donation centre would take it now, not with the pinprick holes beginning to stretch and the fabric becoming nearly sheer in spots. It’s nothing like the pricy pajamas she buys that boast moisture wicking materials for her night sweats or ecofriendly fibers or soft silk, gentle against aging skin. 

It’s lost its value but still, she keeps it, wraps herself up in it after long days and cold nights. Fits her pinky into the small holes, smells the fabric softener, tries not to think of Tina sipping coffee with the sleeves pulled into her palms and steals the small bits of comfort it brings.

She’s never been good at letting go. 

Tina’s arms around her shoulders, her hair against her cheek, under her nose is nothing she should indulge in. It’s not what she should want, it’s not what she should need – not anymore, and it’s certainly not what she deserves. But she closes her eyes, feels the softness of the woman under her fingers and takes it all. Her scent, her muscle moving beneath the fabric of her shirt, her chest rhythmic with breathing, the way Tina’s own fingers move and grasp so slightly. She may never have this again.

And she’d never been good at letting go.

“Please, don’t go. Please?”

The way the hands on her shoulders and the mouth near her ear are still and hesitant make her, for a moment, hate herself. This is destruction, this is implosion. And Bette is okay doing it to herself, always will be but she’d promised herself long ago that she wouldn’t pull Tina into the flame, not anymore. 

She doesn’t want to but here she is and Tina, well she’ll always want Tina. She’ll always love her. To the exclusion of everyone else. To the detriment of both of them.

“Bette.” It’s a whisper, cautious and pleading. One word that speaks many – please, don’t do this. 

She knows that she should pull away, apologize, allow Tina out of this moment. The one brought on by her own weakness. But she doesn’t. She stays because she knows she’d set her entire world on fire hundreds of times over if it meant Tina said yes, if she stayed.

She feels the hesitant hand move into her hair. Tina always loved her hair. Running her hands through it before they slept, curling her finger around it while they read, clenching it between her fist while Bette made love to her. Her touch now is lighter, uncertain.

Bette doesn’t let go. Her hands press into Tina’s shoulders, the length of their bodies thoroughly together now. The fingers at the back of her scalp really touch her now, fingers digging to massage at the base of her scalp, she groans or she sighs, she’s not sure but air leaves her mouth right next to her ex wife’s ear. _Ex_ wife. She just feels so good against her.

“Bette,” Tina says again. It’s sturdier this time but it’s not telling her to stop.

She allows her hands to move, realizing they’d felt thick and cemented. The planes of Tina’s back beneath her hands make her want to shudder, she feels like home but she feels different. She hates that she feels different. She should’ve been there for the changes, the bit of weight now around her hips, the lines more defined around her eyes. They’re at that age, things change so rapidly. 

She should’ve been there to kiss every single bit. 

There’s lips fluttering near her temple, not daring to touch, as she grasps Tina’s hips. She feels the small puff of air, hears the hiss of want. Turns toward it. Bette’s nose bumps the underside of Tina’s jaw and they stay there, breathing, feeling. Her lips ghost near her pulse point. She wants so badly to graze it with her teeth.

“We can’t.”

She stills. Her heart, broken and incomplete, cracks further. She knows Tina is right. She rests her forehead between her shoulder and her neck, taking in the scent she’ll lose once she steps away again.

“I know,” she whispers into the skin near her mouth, “I know.”

Bette is cold the moment her hands fall to her sides and they’re face to face again. Nothing in Tina’s face tells her she needs to apologize but she feels that she should. She knows she’ll lay her head down and agonize over every moment, wake up every hour feeling like she should call to explain herself. 

She closes her eyes as she begins to speak, “Tina, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t come here to-”

“Bette? Look at me.” She looks. “This will never be about me not wanting you.”

Bette almost laughs but stops herself until Tina’s own laugh, mirthless, bubbles up between them. When they lock eyes, there’s an ease there. 

“Yeah, that never really was our problem, was it?”

“Never.”

They smile then. Tina grabs at the handles of her bags again and turns to leave, nothing left to say. But Bette, Bette can never really stop herself, can she?

“T?”

Blonde shifts around her shoulders as she turns, “hmm?”

“If things were different-”

She stops Bette with a small, sad smile, “they’re not.”

She nods, looks to her feet. They’re not. 

“But,” Tina’s voice comes small and Bette looks at her then, “if they were,” she nods.

Bette goes inside alone, her wife halfway down the street.

She sighs. 

She’s never been good at letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a disappointing lack of all L Word but specifically Bette/Tina fiction. Give your kudos and comments to show you'd like more and give me any suggestions of stories you'd like to see.


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